The Dragon
by Kattungefisk
Summary: In 1897 Manhattan, Lambo Bovino is an Italian immigrant living in the Lower East Side who meets I-Pin, a Chinese girl with a mysterious dragon tattoo.


**Inspired by omgpink's amazing story Forget Me Not, part of ONE. And that is totally not the whiny brat Lucrezia who insisted she be a part of a mafia-New York AU. Totally not. Because this story is Lambo and I-Pin's.  
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**Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Akira Amano**

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><p><strong>Part One: The Meeting<br>**

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><p><em>She was a snake sliding over his body, her hands following every place she lightly brushed with her full pink lips. A moan escaped his lips as her braid trailed along his warm chest, making his skin tingle agreeably.<em>

_Like a golden fire, her eyes smoldered at him as she rose up, her legs still straddling and stretched, giving him a full view of her smooth porcelain skin stretched over delicate bones, with small but silky breasts filling his eyes._

_On her thigh, a black dragon tattoo began to writhe, wrapping itself around her calf and flickering it's way up to her stomach where it spun in a hypnotizing circle, never allowing him to drag his eyes away from it._

_With one last fervent spin, the dragon leapt away from her stomach, reaching out to grasp his face in it's gaping mouth -_

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><p>Lambo's snapped open and he tried to fling himself out of bed with a cry, smacking his head onto the wall next to him. Crumpling to his knees, he groaned and clutched his head.<p>

His head was again struck against the wall when a foot lashed out and shoved it there. With a wince, he glanced back at his young aunt who was glowering at him from her spot on the small bed they barely managed to fit in their tenement. Her short strawberry-blonde hair was wild, adding to her intimidating look, and her glasses laid on the awkward and unbalanced side table, making her appear prettier than usual without them.

"Why in God's name are you screaming at this time of the morning? I'll make you sleep on the floor again!" She growled, snapping her head back to glare at the just peaking light of dawn out the window. A pout quickly replaced the scowl when she realized it was time to get up anyway. Snatching her glasses off the table, she shooed him out of their small room to change.

In the kitchen, he scrambled around in the ice box, pulling out a piece of bread and an apple. For two years he'd been living here with his aunt, having traveled over from Italy to join her when he had turned thirteen. They didn't make much, her peddling bread and vegetables and him with doing deliveries for and occasionally running odd jobs for 'the family'. His aunt disapproved of this, but even with the decreased rent she got them by helping fix up the building, they needed all the money they could get.

Once she re-entered, dressed and with her basket for selling her wares. A boys cap and outfit was her choice, since she was small enough to pass as a boy and not be insulted for being a working, un-wed twenty-five year old. She passed by her small desk with various mechanical trinkets, 'the desk of dreams' as he called it. His aunt would often sit there in the evening, building tiny devices that she promised would one day make them richer than they could ever imagine.

As Lambo went back into the room to change, his aunt began to nag. "If the Wolf comes sniffing around, trying to get you to do a job for him, tell him I need you home tonight." It was one of the usual comments she made, trying to keep him out of the Mafia business, "And that if he has a problem with that, he can talk to me. I need a man around the house sometimes."

Ignazio 'The Wolf' Saietta was only a few years older than him, but was already one of the top bosses of the Mafia in Little Italy. Sometimes he would give Lambo packages to deliver, and despite all of his aunt's pleas, he did, appreciating the money and knowing that refusing might get him killed. Who would take care of his aunt then?

Finishing up with his clothes and pulling on a hat similar to his aunt's, he kissed her on the cheek as she packed up her wares. "I'll be fine, Zia. I won't do anything that'll land me in the East River." With a scowl, she responded by shoving a few dollars and a list in his hands and telling him to go to the grocery in Chinatown to pick up her vegetables after he finished work.

He was surprised by this. Normally, she preferred to pick up her own groceries, often stopping by her favorite restaurant while there. Every time she did, she'd return with a dreamy look in her eye and a misty smile, lending weight to Lambo's suspicion of why his aunt was unmarried at twenty-five. A respectable Italian woman could not marry a Chinaman, but his aunt always was a romantic at heart, he believed.

With the list in his hands, he trotted down the stairs, giving a nod and a grin to Nana Sawada as he passed her on the stairs. She'd always been kind to her Italian neighbors, asking them to join her and her husband for dinner when she knew that the Bovinos were low on money. Her boy, Tsunayoshi, would join them too sometimes with his wife and son and he would bicker with Lambo's aunt like they were siblings. Tsuna and his father were some of the few Mafioso Lambo was allowed to hang around with.

The street he stepped onto wasn't crowded yet, but he knew that within a few hours he'd find it difficult to walk without bumping into anyone. He scuttled along, trying to avoid the various papers and excrement around his feet, his green eyes flickering around, hoping that none of the tougher men of the neighborhood were out and interested in picking on the young boy. He stepped on something soft, lifting his shoe and scowled when he saw what it was, scrapping it onto the road as he continued on down Grand Street towards his work.

The store was silent as he slipped into the back. Heading up to the front, he got the receipts for deliveries from Reborn, a retired Mafioso who owned the grocery with his wife Luce, and noted the large number with a great sigh. He'd be lucky if the Chinese grocery wasn't closed by the time he was finished with these. Returning to the store rooms after dodging a kick from his boss with uncanny hearing and a lack of tolerance for whiners, he began to pack up the fruits and vegetables and pastas that had been ordered by the more affluent Italian immigrants.

Halfway through his round of deliveries that were thankfully split between him and three other boys around his age, a man stepped out of a nearby alley and waved him over. Lambo paused, uncertain of what he should do. Trying to ignore the man was out of the question, but he didn't want any problems, especially when his aunt was so worried. He gulped and walked up to Ignazio Saietta, who had a smirk much like the wolf whose name had been given to him.

"Ciao, little cowboy, how have you been since our last talk?" Ignazio wrapped his arm around the younger boy's shoulder and lead him into the alley, taking advantage of the heavy bags in Lambo's arms. The Bovino's eyes flickered about, hoping that someone might step in to help him out, but the others on the street averted their eyes - no one wanted to be on the bad side of the young boss.

Lambo could feel his eyes begin to well up, but refused to let them out, looking straight ahead so that Ignazio wouldn't be able to see them. "I… I have to deliver these while they're fresh," he whispered, too scared to speak louder, "Reborn'll be mad if I don't… He'll kick me…"

The don of the Morello family shook his head, a patronizing smile plastered on his face. "I'm sure the old fool will understand that the families still move forward while he is not among us." He began patting the teen on the back, enjoying his discomfort, "Now, I need a little note delivered down to The Golden Lark on Pell Street. It can be done after your shift. I'm being awfully nice today, aren't I?" Musing over this, he slapped Lambo on the back and slipped a piece of paper into the boy's shirt pocket before directing him out of the alley. Ruffling up his dark hair, he smirked at the boy. "You know what'll happen if you read it. Ciao, little cowboy! Tell your auntie I said hello!" The Mafioso strolled off down the street.

Wishing that he could rub his eyes and wipe away his tears, but stopped by the groceries, Lambo stumbled up onto Broome Street. He passed on the food to the sweet but quiet Chrome Rokudo and her creepy husband Mukuro. At least, he figured as he tucked away the nickel she'd given him as a tip, his aunt wouldn't have to find out about Ignazio's message; he could deliver it after he stopped at the Chinese grocery.

The rest of the day passed by quickly and after a few more delivery runs and a beating from Reborn interrupted by the man's daughter with the accounts, he was free. Escaping out the shop and waving good-bye to Uni as she swept the floor of her family's shop, he bit his lip and started off down Mott, a nervous fluttering in his chest. He didn't like going down to Chinatown now anymore than he did the first time with his aunt two years ago when he'd first arrived and couldn't speak any English, let alone the strange dialects his aunt seemed to be able to toss around with the men down there as easy as if it were her mother tongue.

When he reached Canal Street, he stared at the scarlet Chinese words emblazoned on the signs hanging over the heads of the Asian men. The scent of roasting duck and seasoned noodle broths floated in the air and attracted the noses and stomachs of hungry off-duty workers and young couples wanting an adventure close to home. Taking a deep breath, he set off down the road, trying to avoid walking into anyone else, flinching if he got too close to someone.

The farther in he got, the more scared he was. It was getting darker every moment, the sun setting earlier at this time of year and Lambo could swear that he caught the scent of opium from the dark and terrifying dens he'd read about in the papers, even if he had no actual idea of what it smelt like.

A whimper escaped his lips when he reached the grocery and saw it closed. No groceries meant that they wouldn't have any food tonight and all the other stores would have shut down by this time too. His stomach rumbled and, wiping his nose as tears welled up in his eyes yet again, he set off to find The Golden Lark.

Down Pell Street he went, staring helplessly at signs that made no sense to him, wishing his auntie was there to decipher them for him as he brushed by the Oriental men. He was too scared to ask for directions and his head whipped back and forth towards the windows, hoping for a little hint so that he could finish this job the Wolf had forced on him and go home. A last, a bit of golden paint in the corner of his eye caught his notice and he turned to see the painting of a small golden bird under matching characters. Inside the windows, he saw tables and patrons with dishes in front of them. Taking a chance, Lambo entered the restaurant.

It all went quiet when he, the sole Caucasian passed through the door. Various Chinamen in outfits ranging from those of laborers to businessmen put down their chopsticks and stared at him in suspicion. Awkwardly, Lambo looked around for someone who might be in charge.

Behind him, a light voice asked a question in an unfamiliar language. When he turned around, a shock went through him at the sight of young Chinese girl his age in a silk dress and with inky braids smiling up at him, a confused look in her dark eyes. Gulping, Lambo pointed to the window's decorations. "The Golden Lark?" He questioned nervously, wishing that he could just run out and back to his little tenement building with the relative who would probably very very angry with him by now.

The girl's smile grew wider. "Yes!" She answered him in heavily accented English, "Welcome to Golden Lark! You like a seat?" Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him over to an empty table, sitting him down and giving a slip of food-stained paper covered in words he couldn't understand. "Special today - soup with dumpling!" Her smile turned shyer as she glanced at him from the side, "My English… is it good?"

The completely flustered Lambo just nodded, putting aside the menu. "Ye-yes, it is…" Scrambling around in his shirt pocket, he pulled out the note and held it towards her. "Ah… Ignazio Saietta…" A knowing look passed over the girl's face and she took the slip of paper, scuttling off to a scowling man in the corner who had various sheets and forms in front of him, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The girl gave him the note and spoke softly in the man's ear, pointing at Lambo. Reading it over, the man stood up and stalked over to the Italian's little table.

Intimidated by the man, the young boy leaned back in his seat as he received a glare even more forceful than the one he would get at home. Holding up the note so that it could be clearly seen, the man crushed it into a tiny ball and slammed it onto the table, storming away into the kitchens.

"My husband say, 'no return message'." The girl spoke sagely, trying to cover a giggle.

Confused, Lambo stared at her, then the door where the man had disappeared, then back to her. "Your husband?" Though she was his age, the man had to be at least in his mid-twenties. But, maybe that was how those Oriental people did things…

The girl nodded. "My husband, Kyoya Hibari. My name I-Pin!" She pointed at herself with a slender finger, "Like mahjong! My master, Fon," the finger turned towards the kitchen, "He husband's grandfather. He cook."

Still somewhat confused but nodding along, the Bovino boy jumped when Hibari returned, two covered bowls and a package in his hands. He dropped them on the table and snapped something out in Chinese before returning to his papers in the corner. Shivering, Lambo turned to I-Pin for a translation.

The smile on her face had become slightly bitter. "He say, your aunt did not come in today, and you have no groceries. He say, take food home. No charge. He want bowl back." Biting her lip, she looked away.

With a look of completely shock, Lambo stared at the terrifying man. This had to be the person his auntie was in love with. But he was a Chinaman! And married! And as scary as Saietta! With a shiver, he looked at the girl who was taking away his menu. And poor I-Pin… she had to know that there was an Italian woman who had her eyes on the girl's husband. He'd scold his aunt later for the pain she was putting a beautiful girl through.

"I-I'm sorry…" He apologised when she came back, picking up one of the bowls as he grabbed the other. She shook her head, walking with him to the door.

Placing the extra bowl in his hand, her smile returned. "Be very careful. They hot." Warning him, her look turned shy again. "Come back anytime. Auntie too. You both help me with my English!" Waving her hand, she slipped back into the restaurant.

Setting off down the road, Lambo was too distracted by thoughts of China girls with black hair and eyes like droplets of ink to be scared of the dark and the men who moved like shadows along the street.


End file.
